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It seems a shame that it has languished, hidden, for so long.
I toy with it for a moment, rolling the cold band between my fingers. Then I slip it down onto the fourth finger of my left hand. It fits perfectly.
Stop it.
I growl at my mawkishness and hastily pull the ring from my finger. I don’t know what has come over me recently. I think what is happening with my dad must be playing havoc with my emotions. I’ve never been one for outpourings of feelings. I’ve never really been one for feelings at all. Feelings get in the way of getting things done. And I’ve always had a lot to do.
Feelings are messy, complicated. They get in the way of achieving one’s objectives. Maybe that’s it. Maybe my retirement has created an opening for uncertainty and thought that my mind seems quite content to fill with vapid notions of romance.
I think of my mother, making dinner at the same time every night. Always a home cooked meal each night, cooked from scratch and served steaming warm to my father at his place at the head of the table. No matter what was happening, where they were, what my mother had in her diary, that meal had to be cooked. From the first day of their marriage to the final night she spent on this earth, she made his dinner.
That’s just not for me.
Devotion or drudgery, however you look at it, I’m not capable of that level of commitment. Not now. I gave twenty-five years of my life to the Army. I gave every ounce of my academic ability to my career. I’ve no desire to commit to anything right now. I still have plenty I want to achieve. Lots of things to do.
I’m not looking for anyone to keep me warm at night. I have a perfectly good quilt.
And yet why does my heart beat a little faster when I think that someone once loved me enough to want to marry me?
I return the ring to its box and push my chair back, groaning slightly as I rise to my feet. I’ve been sitting in one place for too long.
I look down at the jewelry box, sitting in plain sight. There’s no one around now to ask me any questions I can’t answer about it. My mother passed away fifteen years ago, and my father is going to see out his days in the peaceful tranquillity of Meadow View nursing home. The old house that once glowed in the golden evening light of my parents’ famous Army top-brass soirees is now sad and empty. Apart from me, rattling around in it like a lonely little pea.
I scoop up the little box and my fingers catch the thick brown envelope beneath it. I jump. Almost forgot those. I clasp my discharge papers more firmly in my grip. They belong in the safe too.
It is hard to believe that that ordinary looking piece of A4 paper brings the curtain down on twenty-five years of service. I didn’t want to go, not really, but I’d served my time, and the rehabilitation project I’d been working on for the last few years had come to a natural conclusion and passed into a new phase, one that did not require my direct involvement. The improved surgical techniques, the advanced technology, the first-class care systems, and managements skills are all carefully documented in the project dossier, readily replicable anywhere and by anyone.
My work legacy will live on without me. The thought brings a smile to my lips as I slide the papers and the jewelry box into the safe. But I’m not sure I know how to live on without it.
The safe clangs shut and I check my watch. Time to go. I may be retired, but standards must be maintained. I can ponder my future later.
Major Dr. Victoria Canmore is never late.
* * *
“Good afternoon, Miss Canmore. How are you today?” The duty nurse, Nurse Watt, greets me with a bright smile.
“I’m doing fine, thanks. How are you?”
“I’m…”
“Major.” My father’s voice rings out clear and true from his seat in the corner of the room.
“What’s that, Major?” asks the nurse, her bright smile unfazed.
“I said, it is Major. Her title is Major.”
My father turns his head and continues looking out the window.
“My apologies, Major Canmore,” says the nurse. I’m not entirely sure whether she’s apologising to me or to my father.
I shake my head, “It is absolutely fine. Please don’t worry about it. Victoria will do fine, thank you. How has he been?”
“He’s been a bit quiet today. He slept well and he enjoyed his breakfast, but he seems a little bit down today. I’m sure seeing you will cheer him up.”
I’m sure it will.
I nod and make my way over to my father’s spot in the corner of the day room.
